


Scavenger Hunt

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fun, Massage, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of Smut, No Sex, Reader is a precious cinnamon roll, Reader-Insert, Tumblr Prompt, Wholesome, family business, hunting monsters, hunting things, saving people, scavenger hunt, tiny bit of gore mentioned, writing challenge, x marks the spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: You welcome Sam and Dean home from a djinn hunt with gifts, but first they must follow the clues in a scavenger hunt to find them! The clues take them separate ways, where you have a sexy night with Dean planned.





	Scavenger Hunt

The creaky bunker door shut as you hid the last clue. Sam and Dean had returned from a particularly stressful hunt, and although your stellar research guided them every step of the way, you could tell it would take a while for them to wind down. Your welcome home gift wasn’t without ulterior motives, however; you were purposefully separating Sam from you and Dean later on in the scavenger hunt so you could get some alone time with your sweetheart. The past few days had been stressful on you, too, and you were hoping to release some pent up frustration at the end of the game.

 

You beamed at the sight of your man coming back in one piece. Something red and chunky was smudged across his face in an effort to wipe it off before walking in. The gore looked mostly superficial, to your relief.

 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” you called out as they clumped down the staircase. Sam smiled as he wiped his hand across his face, unsure if he had already been dripping whatever was left of this week’s monster onto the steps. Dean’s exhausted gaze met yours, glassy and bloodshot, but you knew just below the surface his mind was still in full Hunt Mode. Calming one’s mind after three full days of nonstop adrenaline rush was easier said than done. Lucky for him, you were the woman for the job.

 

“Hey honey,” Dean greeted you with a loud smack on your lips as he held your shoulders with his dirty hands. You didn’t mind. Muddy handprints just meant that he was home again.

 

Sam plopped into a chair in the War Room while Dean made his way to the fridge, just as you had anticipated. These two had prevented the end of the world multiple times, but once in the comforts of home, they were as predictable as the ending of a cliche chick flick. Like clockwork, Dean took out two cold beers and clanked one onto the table, but their after-hunt ritual was interrupted when Sam noticed a yellow sticky note peeking out from under the bottle. You sat quietly across from the brothers to watch your plan unfold.

 

“‘One more mystery before you go to sleep’,” Sam read the note aloud. “‘Follow the clues and find rest at the end.’ What is this?” His brows furrowed.

 

Dean perked up, a nostalgic, far-away stare glossing his eyes over. “Awesome,” he answered quietly, a smile making its way across his face, “it’s a scavenger hunt, Sammy. Each note leads you to another and there’s a prize at the end.”

 

“I know it’s hard to get out of the zone after a djinn hunt,” you explained, “so I thought I’d give you guys something fun to help wind down.”

 

Sam relaxed and turned the note over to read the rest of your handwriting. “Oh, that sounds cool! Okay, the rest of it says, ‘Your next step would not have been possible without the contributions made by a great many people, on two sides of the Atlantic Ocean.’”

 

Dean took a long sip of his beer while Sam spoke. “The hell does that mean? Are we talking about the Revolutionary War?”

 

“No, it’s a quote from _the Dark Sacrament_ ,” Sam responded nonchalantly.

 

“Dude, you’ve read like, a million books. How could you possibly remember that?”

 

Sam sat back defensively. “It’s one of my favorite books on exorcism.”

 

Without waiting for Sam to finish, Dean gripped his beer and sprinted towards the library. Sam jumped up and ran after him, quickly putting together how the game worked. Following close enough to hear their conversation but far away enough to stay out of the way, you grinned to yourself as your brilliant plan to bring a little fun into their otherwise gravely serious lives worked.

 

By the time you two had reached the library, Dean was frantically searching each spine for the title in question, but you had purposefully rigged this clue in Sam’s favor. Right away, Sam found the book on the exact shelf he had left it, and opened it to find another sticky note. Dean came up behind him and glanced over his shoulder, and for a split second you saw his eyes glimmer with the wide-eyed wonder of a boy on a treasure hunt.

 

“‘I’m just a simple guy, I live from day to day’,” Dean muttered the words on the paper, “‘a ray of sunshine melts my frown and blows my blues away,’”

 

Sam cocked his head. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

 

“Because it’s a line from Out On the Tiles,” Dean supplied, pausing for a beat. “The Dean Cave!” he finished, walking briskly out of the rows of books. “That’s where my Led Zeppelin III album is.”

 

Sam followed him and glanced back at you, his face void of all stress from the difficult hunt and wordlessly thanking you for getting his mind off of the hunter’s life, even just for a few minutes. You nodded, encouraging him to forget you were there and follow his brother, and kept tagging along behind them, knowing that soon their clues would split them into opposite directions.

 

Dean flipped through his albums briefly, the location of his Zeppelin collection seared into his brain from so many late nights winding down with classic vinyl. Sam was the one peeking over his shoulder this time, patiently waiting as his brother carefully slipped the record out of its sleeve. Dean turned it around to reveal the next sticky note on side 2.

 

“‘No other hunters of this caliber are known’,” Sam read. “‘The next clue is no shot in the dark. It’s in your sights but don’t jump the gun.”

 

“The gun range!” both of them exclaimed at the same time. Sam took off immediately, leaving Dean to put the record back in the sleeve.

 

“I think he’s gotten the hang of it,” Dean chuckled as the two of your hurried out of the room. 

 

You smiled as you two turned a corner to head to the range. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your prize soon. I know both of you are exhausted so I tried not to make the game too long.”

 

“You kidding? I’m having the time of my life,” Dean encouraged, swinging open the door and finding Sam at the last lane, peering down range in an effort to find the next clue.

 

“In your sights, in your sights,” Sam kept chanting, walking from lane to lane, getting far too invested in the game. “No shot in the dark. Don’t jump the…”

 

In unison, Sam and Dean glanced at their respective gun safes. Which firearms they kept locked away depended on the job at hand, but there was always at least one in each safe, ready for practice rounds. Not questioning how you figured out their lock combos, they entered in the numbers and each opened the heavy door to his safe. For the record, however, you figured out the combos from spending far more time at the range with the two of them than was justifiable and seeing the combos being entered daily was just par for the course.

 

Dean found his sticky note on the back sights of the pistol hiding on the felt-lined shelf. “What’s yours say, Sammy?” he called over playfully.

 

“It says ‘Go back to the place where the scavenger hunt began. You’ve spent the game together but now the tables have turned.’ The War Room table had a clue under it this whole time?” he chuckled at you.

 

“What can I say? I’m a sneaky one,” you shrugged. “Your turn, Dean.”

 

“‘Separate prizes call for separate ways. Go to where the cars sleep for your next hint.’” He folded the note and closed the safe door, smirking at the thought of being totally oblivious to a clue as he parked the Impala. “The garage,” he concluded.

 

Deducing that you and Dean would be together for the rest of the night, Sam closed his safe and said goodnight. “This has been really fun, Y/N. I feel more relaxed already.” With that, he left the gun range and began his journey to the War Room, much more leisurely than before, now that he didn’t have to race his brother.

 

“He’s right, we needed this,” Dean agreed, both of you loitering at the range for a moment. “I gotta know though, what’s his prize?”

 

You two began your slow and easy trek to the garage. “I couldn’t help but notice that Sam makes Harry Potter references every now and then, and yet he doesn’t have the books. I’ve seen library copies lying around every now and then, but come on. That’s no fun. Everyone needs their own hardbacks of the complete series.”

 

Dean’s brows raised, his sleepy eyes bright with eagerness. “Nice. Now I’m really curious about my prize.” He covered a yawn and blinked away the tiredness.

 

“Oh,” you assured him, “I think you’ll enjoy it.” You couldn’t hide the underlying tone laced with your sexy plans for the night. Usually you two wasted no time getting in each other’s pants after he came home, but this time you wanted to do something a little extra to make him feel loved. It wasn’t so much a prize as it was a gift, but the less Dean knew, the more surprised he would be.

 

Once in the garage, Dean began sweeping the broad area with his eyes, looking for a tiny bit of yellow paper to jump out at him. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, determined not to give away the location, but growing impatient as you imagined exactly how you wanted the rest of the night to go. Down to the last detail, you had every touch planned. A small sigh left your lips as your body began reacting to your own thoughts.

 

Dean passed each motorcycle dock until he reached an empty one, noticing a small piece of yellow paper stuck to the floor. Leaning down, he swiped it up and took a long look at the tiny map you had drawn. It was an over-simplified drawing of the bunker’s main areas, with a dotted trail leading to Dean’s room and an X over it. Hopefully he would forgive your lackluster artistic skills in favor for what lied in store.

 

“X marks the spot!” Dean declared, flipping the map around for you to see. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” With that, you followed him back into the bunker and all the way to his room. By the time he opened the door, you had butterflies in your stomach. Would he hate it? Would he be allergic? Had he already figured it out?

 

His eyes widened as he beheld the small pile of goodies on the bed. You had rolled up a fleece blanket to prop up the rest of the items: a bag of assorted candies and a bottle of massage oil. You bit your lip and glanced up at him, but his jaw was slack and he was frozen with surprise.

 

“Babe, this is for me?” he questioned, a little flustered that anyone would spoil him so. 

 

“Sure is, handsome,” you replied, squeezing him from the side. “Now wipe that blood off your face and lay down. You’re a lot less tense than when you came home, but I bet I can help you out even more.”

 

In true Dean fashion, he slipped his shirt off and used it to wipe the rest of the gore off, then tossed it onto the floor. By the time he got out of his shoes and jeans, you had slipped into the black nightie bought exactly for this occasion and laid the new blanket on his bed. Seeing you execute your plans in sexy lingerie made his eyes twinkle, and a smirk came across his face.

 

“Any chance this massage is gonna have a uh… happy ending?” he inquired as he laid flat on his stomach, popping a piece of soft candy into his mouth.

 

You picked at the waistband of his underwear. “Take these off, you prude.”

 

Dean hid a grin in the fleece as he slipped them off, flinging them on top of his pile of clothes. Fidgeting around until he found the perfect position, he rested his head to face you in anticipation. He had been known to turn down many things he deserved, but touch was never one of them. Physical gifts had the tendency to make him feel uncomfortable and unworthy, but experiences -- a day at the fair, tickets to a concert, a back massage with promise of more -- those he could never resist.

 

Straddling his thighs, you poured some oil in your hand and took a moment to warm it with your palms before spreading it across his back, giving a firm push upward. Below you laid Dean, groaning in delight as the slick, warm oil spread across his back with your fingers pressing into the sore muscles. Your thumbs dug circles around his neck and shoulders, and your palms splayed at either side of his spine as you massaged his lower back. Silently you thanked YouTube for its endless supply of tutorials as he hummed his approval.

 

“Hey,” he mumbled through the thick fleece blanket. “I’m feeling like this nakedness thing is a little one-sided. I can give you a hand with those panties.”

 

Leaning down, you whispered in his ear, “What panties?” He beamed mischievously and closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of every slippery, aromatic touch. The oil was jasmine vanilla scented, and his upper back rose as he took in a giant whiff, then letting his breath out unhurried and completely relaxed. He was still aware of your black nightie, but he was going to have to wait on that. You weren’t done with him yet.

 

The balls of your hands kneaded him increasingly deep as you worked out the kinks, paying special attention to areas that needed it more than others. Starting out with tensity and laboring until you reached a satisfying level of tenderness was fulfilling and kind of fun. You continued rubbing his back as you decided that this was definitely not the last time this was happening. Perhaps you could invest in a massage table. Was that too frivolous? The bed worked, for the most part, but his lower back could use more support, since that had a tendency to dip. A pillow would probably fix the problem.

 

Somewhere along the way, Dean’s moaning and groaning had stopped. You paused from the massage to give it a listen, and a very quiet snore escaped his open mouth. Stifling a laugh with the back of your oiled hand, you quickly came to the realization that you had put him at ease a bit too well. What’s more, you weren’t sure if you could get off him without waking him up, and purposefully awakening him was absolutely out of the question. You had survived three days without sex; a few more hours were a small price to pay if it meant he got a good night’s sleep so soon after a nerve-wracking hunt.

 

Carefully, moving painfully slow, you lifted yourself above his legs, then took a step onto the floor, swung the other one over, and finally planted both feet beside the bed. Letting out a sigh of relief when he continued his steady breathing and occasional snore, you threw your pants and shirt back on and tiptoed out of his room and down the hallway. On the way to your room you noticed Sam’s door cracked open and the light on. Giving it a quiet knock, you waited for a response before peeking in.

 

“Come in?” he questioned, a little surprised that anyone would be at his door at this hour.

 

You found him sitting up on his bed, his pillow supporting his back, reading one of the books you had hidden, with a crude map drawn on a note stuck to the cover of The Philosopher’s Stone. He smiled but it soon turned to confusion, and he turned his head slightly to the side.

 

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted. “I thought you’d… be with Dean.” The end of his sentence was quick and awkward.

 

You let out a little laugh, looking down. “Yeah, I was but… it didn’t end as planned. Anyway. I’m glad you like your gift!”

 

“I do, I love them. And the scavenger hunt was a lot of fun. Thank you,” Sam lifted the book as he spoke, a sort of toast in acknowledgement. “And uh,” he continued, referring to your shortened night with Dean, “I don’t think I wanna know.” He huffed a short laugh.

 

“Ah, it’s fine,” you waved your hand in dismissal. “There’s always tomorrow.”

 

Sam was nodding, but stopped abruptly to smell the air around him. “Do you smell that? Is that,” he paused to sniff again, “vanilla? And something else… something flowery.”

 

You jolted back, stumbling over your words. “Ah yes, that’s uh, that’s just, uh, that was part of Dean’s -- you know what it’s not -- I’m gonna go. Goodnight, Sam!” Not waiting for a response, you closed the door a little too hard and scampered the rest of the way to your room. Realizing your black nightie peeked out from under your shirt, you cringed as you prepared for bed, brushing your teeth and putting on comfy jammies. You had managed to calm yourself down just before your phone vibrated with a text. It was from Sam.

 

_ He fell asleep on you, didn’t he? _

 

You rolled your eyes. Oh yes, you were going there.

 

_ Well, not //on// me. But yeah. He fell asleep before things could get interesting. _

 

You knew what he meant, but dammit, if he was really bringing this up, you were going all the way.

 

_ Oh my god. LOL !! _

 

You couldn’t let Sam terrorize his brother over this. The poor guy was exhausted.

 

_ Please don’t tease him about it, I’m not even mad tbh _

 

Yawning, you awaited Sam’s response while lying on your soft bed. You weren’t even awake to read his reply as sleep took you within seconds.

 

_ Haha alright fine. Night _

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was created for a Tumblr writing challenge; my prompt was gift/present. Leave a comment if you enjoyed this fic! Follow me on Tumblr: deans-jiggly-pudding
> 
> Want some smut? Check out Killing Floor and Custard Pie by me, BabysNotaProp


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